I forgot where I come from, Lawrence. We have government by subscription.
And it's expensive!
On Wed, Dec 10, 2014 at 9:15 AM, Lawrence Upton <[log in to unmask]>
wrote:
> Vote? Vote? What kind of talk is that?
>
> L
>
> On 10 December 2014 at 16:03, Sheila Murphy <[log in to unmask]>
> wrote:
>
> > Lawrence, the miracle of technology is that in the mind of a programming
> > entity for, whom we have no name, exists a selection of pathways we might
> > have disputed, had we been enlisted to vote :)
> >
> > On Wed, Dec 10, 2014 at 7:59 AM, Lawrence Upton <[log in to unmask]
> >
> > wrote:
> >
> > > Dear Sheila
> > > Thank you so much. I agree it can be reordered and that it changes the
> > > story. I'm all for that; and I particularly enjoy and approve of your
> > > conclusion.
> > >
> > > Interesting that you have it. It hasn't shown up on my college server
> > about
> > > 10 miles away. Heh ho
> > >
> > > L
> > >
> > > On 10 December 2014 at 14:43, Sheila Murphy <[log in to unmask]>
> > > wrote:
> > >
> > > > Lawrence, as I always do, I admire this piece. One thing that I
> > observed
> > > > further was my own desire to rearrange passages, because this works
> so
> > > many
> > > > ways. In fact, moving such passages around reveals different types of
> > > > "story" plus perceptive power. I think that speaks to the integrity
> of
> > > what
> > > > you have written.
> > > >
> > > > Sheila
> > > >
> > > > On Wed, Dec 10, 2014 at 7:33 AM, Lawrence Upton <
> > [log in to unmask]
> > > >
> > > > wrote:
> > > >
> > > > > The street is a dream. Show us the accolade. It isn't mundane.
> > > > > Desirous of worldly freedoms, we're cold. Can you fancy that?
> > > > > At the bar, we're issued with an almanac. Our cloaks are elusivein
> > > > > which we can injure you as non-participant in nightmare.
> > > > > This gallery, you see the place?, is the innermost of which we are
> > > > > the publicists; we are resentful. The obstructionists, that's what
> > > > > they say, are crackers:the crackers obstructionists reign. It's not
> > > > > cranky.
> > > > > The almanac is endless; its peculiarity is dishonesty; and the
> > > > > dishonesty ubiquitous.
> > > > > The street is a dream. It is the quintessence, that is, it is the
> > core
> > > > > the crux the essence, he said, turning the pages of the folio which
> > > > > encourage us to deviate.
> > > > > He took a sip from his half-full glass.Of what? we asked. I am
> > > > > inclined, he said, to clasp any machination to obtain respite.
> > > > > At the bar, they tend to be frankand each a truant from the truth.
> We
> > > > > usually join in.
> > > > > The cretin sets out to consume the image which gives him or her
> > > > > succour though furtively. What is there?
> > > > > Blood may clot, a beak may enter the outer skinof the weather, and
> we
> > > > > may flunk. We clasp the blockhead secret, the wandering sprite. We
> > > > > clasp and crush, by accident, the coincidental; it's galling he's
> so
> > > > > cocky.
> > > > > Clasp hold of the boom, he says, just listen to it, puzzling over
> the
> > > > > carnal. He is a boor. It's the booze that sends him wayfaring
> > > > > furtively. We watch his decay, giving him a nourishment and
> support.
> > > > > We clasp hold of esprit de corps, he says. What the fuck? What the
> > > > > fuck.
> > > > > I sleep, he says, I plumb the wolf in me. It is meaningless he is
> so
> > > > > cocky. Distribute the bill, he calls, distribute the bill. His
> > > > > identity is his loftiness. We are sorrowful. Christ, it is
> freezing,
> > > > > he shouts, and slowly, word by word.Do not cause me to hurt you,
> you
> > > > > stickler. Our names are transient.
> > > > > We clasp the area of his puzzling, finding it inadequate.The street
> > is
> > > a
> > > > > dream?
> > > > > The bricks are ardent. What is that? The sky lightweight; stop
> > > > > commenting, there's no need to explain. The vine cannot grow here.
> > > > > There is no community. We are dependent, he says, on inferior
> trivia.
> > > > > The dignitary has no substance and his journey is nearly worthless.
> > > > > The houses band to gossip. This makes it peaceful and not at all
> > > > > emotional. In one eye, just below it, a tear, or perhaps a fold of
> > the
> > > > > supposed reality. Do not belittle the pot belly. Do not be
> > > > > belligerent. Cross the bridge. And deign to the confusion. The
> world
> > > > > of fairy is hypothetical.The fraud is okayish.
> > > > > coquette - book - crush - ecstasy - come together
> > > > > apprehension - conference - exclusive - bawdy --absent - animal -
> > > > > active --come together
> > > > > The pavement is an augury, outrage of reason, cold-hearted,
> > impossible
> > > > > inferno, booze, smooth visions of the edge in direct inoperative
> > > > > botching.The ground is crumbling.
> > > > >
> > > >
> > >
> >
>
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